The lay of the land
by TheDistorted
Summary: In 1928, things are looking dark for the Beilschmitt company. Weimarer Republik AU, human names used, obviously.
1. 1: The Beilschmitt boys

The city has changed. Not just in terms of architecture and structure - it seems to be something about the people he encounters in the streets. Despite the hardships they have had to encounter throughout the past decade, despite the excruciating worries that must haunt them all day, they seem so…awake, for lack of a better word. They have all adapted so flawlessly to the new speed of life, to these enormous changes. Beautiful, confident young women with haircuts like a man's strutting past a group of children chanting socialist battle hymns at posh businessmen on their way to an expensive lunch, all part of an infinite process to great for a single person to comprehend, all progressing.

They evoke a spark of hope in Ludwig, all problems he will have to face notwithstanding.

Having left the country a few months before the Revolution, he is slightly amazed to see how pervasive political life has become. On the way to his family's residence, Ludwig passes endless rows of the same posters again and again, KPD, SPD, Zentrum, DNVP, KPD…, most of them sporting some kind of crude depiction of political enemies. He has heard of the increasingly violent clashes between worker's unions and the police, constantly recurring brawls between the followers of parties from the far left of the spectrum, the agitated demands for a ban on demonstrations coming from his father's old friends. It will take time for him to get used to this new manner of living politics, he figures as he walks down the Kurfürstenndamm, feeling much more comfortable in the evidently more wealthy areas of Berlin.

Part of him feels that it was about high time that Germany makes the same transition towards a more participatory country that many of the other countries have managed to pass long before him, but at times it is shocking to see what manners of expression some of the newly introduced participants in the political arena consider appropriate.

So he has to worry about the general mood all over the country, he thinks as he turns to the right, briefly checking the sign to confirm that he remembers correctly how to walk home, and German finances are deeply unsettling, and on top of all that the relations to most foreign business partners are still deeply strained, but he's happy to sense that he can't quite shake a feeling of confidence as he walks down the street, the late sun of April warming him just enough to not feel anything at all.

He grows slightly anxious as he slowly approaches their old house on Tauentzienstraße, not having seen it in five years. The street itself has remained largely untouched, perhaps a little busier than it used to be, but the overall pleasantly luxurious atmosphere it radiates is exactly the one it was when he left. Ludwig is stopped by an elderly couple, former neighbours who used to let him and Gilbert play in their beautiful garden, sometimes together with their older son, who had already nearly been done with school and was thus much admired by the two of them. Vaguely remembering something about his friend wanting to join the military, Ludwig asks if he is currently in Berlin, hoping to maybe meet up if the occasion ever arises. They give him a weak smile, the woman's eyes suddenly looking very old.

How odd, he thinks as he strolls onwards, turning around briefly to watch his neighbours disappear around the corner, how very odd to think that their former friend should be lying dead somewhere in a mass grave in France, head punctured with bullets or torn apart by a grenade, while his childhood friend can still feel the spring breeze going through the streets of Berlin.

The sound of their old doorbell triggers enough memories to make his stomach lurch, but he barely has time to recover himself. The heavy front door is all but ripped open in a heartbeat and Ludwig instinctively shifts into a slightly more secure stance just as his older brother half-hugs, half-tackles him with a joyous roar.

"Ludwig! I- _Finally,_ took you long enough", Gilbert shouts excitedly, refusing to let go for the moment.

"It's great to see you", Ludwig says and awkwardly positions his arms on the smaller man's shoulders, immediately taking over his traditional role of the composed counterpart to his enthusiastic older brother.

For a long moment, they don't say anything else, entirely content to be standing together like this, united, relaxing tensions they didn't even know they were holding. Finally, Gilbert lets go of him. "Come inside, Ludwig."

Gilbert has arrived a few days ago and seems to be entirely at ease, moving freely and with confidence through the rooms that used to be restricted for their father's personal use only. "I've already started sorting through some of the old files, but honestly, I'm glad you're here to take over, especially for the foreign ones", he calls from the kitchen.

Ludwig smiles to himself, thinking of their school days. Languages never were Gilbert's strong suit, but then again, neither were natural sciences or maths, at least back in school. His older brother barely made it through the Gymnasium, not as a result of some kind of mental deficiency but rather because of his utter refusal to grant more than a fleeting glance to anything that didn't promise an instant reward. The teachers would often remark on their apparently radically different personalities, praising Ludwig and scolding Gilbert to their father, who was well aware of what could be expected of his two sons. Occasionally, it even surprised Ludwig himself how well Gilbert took to the constant critique and condescension that accompanied his childhood and youth, not once taking any of it out on his smaller brother.

Carrying a small tray with drinks, Gilbert manoeuvres into the salon. "We'll have staff here by Monday, so until then we'll just have to eat out – I have a table at the Adlon for tonight."

Ludwig takes the glass holding amber liquor that Gilbert offers him and takes a seat in one of the luxurious armchairs his father used to provide for his clients. Gilbert pours himself a generous portion and sits down next to him. "I've actually invited some clients already", he adds, voice slightly apologetic. "Suits me just fine", Ludwig answers, even though in all honesty he would have preferred to stay for himself tonight, to gather his thoughts together.

"They were all really happy to hear you'd be there, you know. Guess they're afraid of me." Gilbert grins at him. Teeth bared, eyes gleaming in the reflecting light and his white hair dishevelled, his presence may indeed appear intimidating to anyone not graced with the advantage of a life-long built tolerance for his manners, his looks, his overall Gilbert-ness. "Can't really blame them", Ludwig says with a very slight smile.

"Aah, bullshit."

"Seriously, try not to scare anyone off."

"Don't worry so much, we'll do just fine. Honestly, I think some of the people father worked with were practically waiting for us to take over."

Ludwig gives him an incredulous look.

"Why should they?"  
>"Well, you may not have noticed, living everywhere but here, but he hasn't really done anything much this last year. Just sat around moping or meeting fellow frustrated old businessmen to mope together with. He was a bit of an asshole." Gilbert stares out of the window for a few seconds and then sighs happily. "I mean, his Großindustrie friends are going to hate us, and so will those DNVP guys. But if we really start the business all over, I bet they'll come from all over the world to buy our planes. Family name still counts, you know?"<p>

Ludwig nods and twirls the liquid in his glass, relishing its sharp and yet oddly sweet smell.

The air still feels pleasantly tepid when they leave the house for dinner, so they decide to walk. Gilbert is apparently just as boisterous as he used to be, practically bouncing around Ludwig while continuously chattering.

"I think I'd like to look for a new team to work with. There isn't much of a team, anyway, father fired most of them, but we should definitely fire the remaining ones, too. They're idiots, and they're narrow-minded. I have some awesome plans in mind, I need people who can appreciate them."

"You shouldn't take too much time, though. We'll have to get started as soon as we have the necessary financing."

Gilbert shoots a tiny glare in Ludwig's direction, who has never particularly enjoyed being his brother's constant voice of reason, but this is just how they work, how they have always worked: Lazily brilliant Gilbert, engineer par excellence, reliable, versatile businessman Ludwig. He has grown accustomed to this unspoken arrangement years ago, but now that they are working together after years of separation, it takes some effort to constantly kontra geben.

"No, I know a few guys who I'd love to work with. At least judging from their work, I've never met them. Don't think they speak German, actually, but I'm sure we could somehow work around that. Everyone should know some German."

As they approach the city center, the sound of chorusing voices grows louder. "_Mann der Arbeit, aufgewacht! Und erkenne deine Macht.._" The first of May isn't too far away, workers are preparing for the big protests. Ludwig grows slightly worried, but the demonstration seems to be taking part in some of the side streets and they make it to the Adlon without encountering any disturbances. Still, the beating of the drums resonates in his ears, like a threat left unspoken.

It's been a long while since Ludwig last set a foot inside such a prestigious establishment, not having had an awful lot of money to spare during his studies and travels. Feeling self-conscious but careful not to let any of it show, he waits in the background until Gilbert has grown tired of flirting with the receptionist. They are led to a large table in a secluded corner of the restaurant.

"Some of your guests have already arrived, Herr Beilschmitt", the waitress whispers and retreats.

A few men have already been seated, waiting and drinking in silence. Most of them seem slightly familiar, men he met a few times in his father's study room when the old drunkard was tipsy enough to take a certain pride in showing off his son to strangers. "He'll run the business, won't you, Ludwig", his father would slur, "you'll take care of everything, good boy", patting him on the head like one would do with an obedient dog. He takes a deep breathand moves towards the table in a few strides. "Gentlemen, it is an honour to have you as our guests tonight", he says, not quite managing to smile.

"The Beilschmitt boys! What a pleasure to meet you again, Ludwig", says an elderly man to his left, rising from his seat to shake hands. The others follow suit. They are financers, old business partners who are hopefully willing to cooperate, two bankers from some of the most important institutions in town. Ludwig is surprised to be greeted by a couple of younger men with a decidedly foreign lilt (Italian, maybe?) to their German, brothers apparently, whose last name sounds distantly familiar, probably an old customer's sons.

As soon as they have finished their greeting rituals, one of the bankers begins to speak loudly enough for the whole assembly to hear. "Certainly you understand that due to the unfortunate nature of this occasion, we would like to, as you say, talk business right away. Upon his untimely decease, your father's business was quite heavily indebted, but we have high hopes in your ability to restore the company as quickly as possible." The small man peers carefully at Gilbert through his pince-nez, but does not manage to establish any eye contact. Gilbert appears to have shut off completely, not looking at anything in particular as he downs his drink, his pale hair conveniently shielding him from prying looks.

"I assure you-", Ludwig begins, previously unaware that the company might need any actual restoring yet quickly grasping that this meeting might turn out to be even more difficult than anticipated, but he is interrupted immediately. "Could you give us a brief overview on the state of your plans for the company?" This question, delivered in a decidedly malevolent tone of voice, comes from one of his father's most frequent guests, a German shipping magnate.

Ludwig waits for a second, willing for Gilbert to speak up, to clarify this situation not only for their guests but also for him, but he does not so much as look up.

He clears his voice. "Unfortunately, I have only arrived today and have therefore not had any occasion to look through all the relevant files, but I guarantee you that as soon as we-".

"Let me spare you some work then, son. You don't have an awful lot of time left, so you may want to get the company back to work. Your father was so far in Rückstand he was probably happy to hand the company over to you two. Now, I'm not inhuman, and neither is anyone here at the table, so we'll give you some time to fix this. But if we don't get any results by the end of the year, there won't be much of a company left to work with."

This, Ludwig decides, has to be the most uncomfortable moment in his entire life. The three things he hates the most in life are, in this order, being unprepared, feeling weak and surprises of any kind. He hadn't expected to find all three combined so devastatingly for dinner. He stops attempting to explain what he does not understand himself, blocking out the reprimands until they finally cease. For once feeling grateful for his utter inability to show emotions, Ludwig manages to end the meeting with as much dignity as the situation allows, despite his total mortification. _How is this supposed to work we cannot build planes out of dirt and clay we need money so much money oh god _twirls around in his head, but he shakes hands and exchanges polite formulas that do not mean anything at all, really, because these people are intent on tearing them apart unless they somehow prove to be worth something after all. Gilbert won't meet his eyes. He probably knew, or at least sensed that the company's state was far worse than their father would let on, but he didn't. say. a. word. Ludwig is about to explode, to punch his older brother right then and there in the most elegant restaurant in town, when he notices that they still are not alone.

"Well", one of the brothers says with an infuriating smirk, his heavily accented German making even Gilbert look up, "I have to say, that was disastrous."

* * *

><p>So, you guys. This is not only my first venture into the vast array of APH fiction, but my first attempt at fiction at all. Maybe a few words to clarify a couple of things:<p>

English is not my native language and I currently don't have a beta reader, so if you have a hard time struggling with any accidental bizarro speak, let me know.

I don't know, would you like some brief explanations on the historical background?

This is supposed to be taking place in April 1928. With the government having fallen apart yet again due to the parties' inability to compromise on the school system (was srs bsns, apparently), the new government elected in May constituted the final part of the Weimarer Republic's parliamentary phase. I'm not entirely sure yet as to what period of time this fic will be covering, so I don't know if I'll get to the Präsidialkabinette and Hitler's rise, and even though that is an extremely interesting episode it's not really what I'd like to cover.

Not sure if I'm getting this across, but I'm kind of trying to make Ludwig and Gilbert incorporate the more liberal but highly conflicted spirit of Weimar.

That's basically the general stuff, if anyone's interested in the parties, the elections, the song, let me know that, too.

You need to talk to MEEE

Reviews are so ridiculously much appreciated, you have no idea.


	2. 2: Battle Scars

"To be honest, we had expected something different based on your reputation. Not that I mind, of course, it was fairly entertaining", the man who introduced himself as Romano earlier on says. Ludwig is still struggling to readjust his thoughts to business when all that he yearns to do is kill Gilbert and possibly himself as well, so he resorts to smiling vaguely while racking his brain for a proper reaction. Who are these people?

Gilbert decides to take action for the first time that evening. "So glad to have been of service. So, unless you have some more insightful commentary to provide, Spaghettifr..?, we would like to call it a day, if you don't mind."

There is a brief flash of anger in Romano's face (_easily upset, _Ludwig notes almost automatically, _probably not a good negotiator_), but he composes himself. "In fact, we would very much appreciate it if you could take the time to listen to what my brother and I have to say. We have an offer to make that might come in fairly convenient given the position you are currently finding yourselves in."

"Certainly", Ludwig cuts in quickly before Gilbert, who is evidently in the process of working up his typically spontaneous and largely unprovoked hatred towards potentially important persons, manages to come up with a retort to end all further conversation. Ignoring his brother's death glare, he leads the small remaining group back to the now unpleasantly oversized table in the back.

The other Italian (_Feli…what was it?) _smiles at him weirdly, almost as if the events of the evening had sent him into a state of relief and gratitude, though Ludwig cannot think of a single reason as to why this should be the case. "I am truly sorry about tonight's…unfortunate development. I am going to have to admit that I was taken as much by surprise as you were, but we will certainly be able to elaborate on the company's state in a few days." There is something oddly soothing about being able to return to his role as the stoic professional and Ludwig can sense that he is steadily calming down, growing more and more confident and clear.

"We would love to hear all about it", Romano half-mutters as he sits down next to Gilbert. "Now. You may remember our family as one of your company's greatest customers, up until a few years ago when, ah, your father chose to rearrange his focus."

"Go ahead, just say it already, he ruined the company. That moron", Gilbert spits. Ludwig cringes, but if the Italians are shocked by Gilbert's harsh remark, they are not letting it on.

The other man (_Feliciano, that was it. Feliciano Vargas._) clears his voice. He speaks with a low voice, very intently without sounding too pressing. "The Beilschmitt company still has an immense potential. You see, we are currently looking for an investment…" "…and you most certainly need investors", finishes his brother, grin returning to his face with full force.

They stay for almost two more hours after that. The Italian brothers talk a lot, an awful lot, about their father and how he left very detailed rules on how to invest the fortune he managed to earn throughout his lifetime, about Berlin and how beautiful it is, about the future of aviation and about their visions for the Beilschmitt AG in ten years. It all sounds quite nice, Ludwig thinks, but somehow it does not really make sense. So they have enormous sums of money to spare, why give it to a practically bankrupt enterprise that currently lives exclusively on former glory? He cannot help but feel somewhat suspicious even though they get along fairly well. Watching his potential business partners intently, he decides to take some time before agreeing to do anything. There must be something off about this situation, and he is determined to find out what it is, to understand why anyone would be willing to invest money without any guarantee of profit coming in the next decade.

There is a bit of an awkward hustle when, around midnight, they decide to call it a night. Mentally prepared for a stern handshake and maybe a bit of good-natured banter, Ludwig is taken aback, to say the very least, when Feliciano Vargas does not stop a good meter away from him. Instead, he invades Ludwig's personal space deftly, in a move so completely uncalled for that Ludwig instinctively steps back, bumping rather loudly into the chair behind him. Gilbert snorts, but has the presence of mind to hold back the kind of particularly witty remark he undoubtedly has in mind. The small Italian looks somewhat confused, but thankfully simply extends his hand instead. His brother frowns at him and proceeds to do the same.

When they finally (_finally, blessedly_) step out on the street, the air has cooled down considerably and Ludwig is glad to have taken a coat with him.

"Wooow, so what was that all about, huh? I don't think he was going to kill you, you know. The way you jumped looked ridiculous", Gilbert laughs, "you should try to be a bit more polite around investors, seriously."

While he has lost some of the unbearable rage from earlier, Ludwig is still far from being on friendly terms with his older brother.

"This is what you want to talk about? Really, after what just happened, _that _is what you think we should discuss? How about you start explaining how you could have possibly missed out on the fact that we are broke? You've been here! You _must _have noticed. I…I'm really at a loss as to how you could just let me go in there without a warning. Either you're a complete moron who shouldn't be dealing with business of this magnitude, _or_ you simply couldn't be bothered to let me know that tonight was going to be a disaster, because, hey, who cares? Ludwig is taking care of that!"

It is difficult to make out Gilbert's face against the dim light of the lanterns, but his voice has fallen completely flat.

"This isn't my fault. Don't even think about suggesting this is my fault."

"Well what do you think whose fault it is?" Ludwig interrupts himself briefly to readjust his voice, which had gotten not only inappropriately loud, but also increasingly hysterical. "Tell me, I'm dying to know. Whose fault is it?"

"I didn't throw money away like a lunatic! I'm not the one who let things slide and pretended that construction plans were going to magically appear out of thin air!"

"Oh so it's father's fault! Of course, that's brilliant. If only there had been someone around, say, a son, to watch and help him!" For a moment, they stare at each other, anger barely veiled by the impenetrable darkness around them. Ludwig makes a helpless noise of frustration and moves on.

"At least I was here! At least I didn't run away and count the days until father died! You have no idea what it was like, to watch him fall apart, to- "

"He sent me! You know that! I did exactly what I was supposed to do! The strands I have been taking care of are working perfectly fine!" Ludwig shouts, all composure lost.

"There was nothing I could have-", Gilbert roars back, but Ludwig interrupts him immediately, yearning for him to give in, to admit his mistakes, to _shut up_.

"Nothing you could have done? You could have told me! You could have let me know that, by the way, we're falling apart over here! Or even if there was some weird reason for why you couldn't possibly have done that at some point during the last few years, you sure could have told me this morning instead of calling in a meeting so I can be told by our Schuldner. You are such a coward, Gilbert, such an incredible coward. I don't think I've ever known someone as ridiculously self-centered as you!"

A small group of young women, presumably on their way to a dance hall, shrieks with delight when Gilbert silently launches himself at Ludwig, tackling him hard enough to make him lose balance and fall. They struggle for a few seconds, Ludwig momentarily shocked with surprise. His brother seems to be serious about this, easily punching him hard enough to leave a mark. For a brief moment, he feels like enduring this, like just sitting this out until Gilbert has calmed down the way he used to back when they were still kids, when his older brother still held some minor physical advantages over him. Mustering up the energy to throw Gilbert off and hold him in place takes an enormous effort, not physically but mentally.

"Gilbert…Gilbert", he mutters, again and again, until finally they have both fallen silent.

Ludwig helps his brother back on his feet. They both spend a few moments rearranging their attire, avoiding each other's eyes. Gilbert, still slightly out of breath, lights a cigarette and offers one to Ludwig, but he shakes his head. His brother's face looks very small in the orange gloom of the flame, his almost childlike features highlighted by the small patch of light the cigarette throws.

"So", Gilbert sighs when he is halfway through, "let's try to talk."

Ludwig nods and slowly continues his way down the street as if there had never been an interruption. Gilbert follows him closely.

"I didn't know much, really. I could tell that business wasn't going the way it used to, but, you know, I figured we were doing just fine. There weren't as many requests or workers or even guests as there used to be, but…I'm not cut out to deal with that kind of thing. You and father take – took – care of that."

"You never even dropped a hint."

"What should I have said? Come back, there may or may not be something possibly bad happening around here, not sure what it might be? Plus, you knew he wasn't doing fine. I mean, he told you, didn't he?"

"All he used to say was that we would take care of his company. That we would manage to make it the greatest manufacturer in all of Europe, that we had the chance to become truly important entrepreneurs…I did know he wasn't happy at all with how things were going, but I didn't know he'd effectively ruined himself."

"I guess he didn't really know that himself. Practically drunk all day. Occasionally he would bother to drive over to the halls, where I was working with the boys, but usually he'd leave real soon. We knew, of course we knew something was off, we were getting fewer each day, but we all kind of assumed it was a matter of him being a lunatic, not him being broke."

Ludwig sighs deeply, already regretting his earlier outburst. As reasonable as it would be to expect this kind of information from any normal grown-up, there simply is not much of a point in arguing with Gilbert whether or not he could have provided some much-needed insight into their father's company earlier on. His brother did not really give the issue much thought, because he never did, end of story.

"But it's not hopeless, right?"

"That depends on your definition of hopeless. I'll have to look into the accounts, Gilbert, but if half of what our guests said is true, I would be very much inclined to say that yes, our situation is hopeless."

"What about these guys, the Vargas? What if we get their money?"

Ludwig hesitates. "I'm…not entirely sure what to make of them."

"They have money. Does it matter if we like them? I know for a fact that I can't stand that one guy, but I'd sure take his money if that meant we could restart business."

"It's not a matter of like or dislike, I'm just not sure if we can really trust them. What makes them want to invest in our company of all things? And don't even think about saying something like "we're just awesome like that", it's really not helpful."

"I have no idea." A small pause. "So you think we shouldn't deal with them?"

"I think we should try to find out more about who they are and what they might want before we accept their offer. For the time being…"

"What?"

"…I really think we should ask Roderich for help."

"You're not seriously suggesting that."

"I'm sure he'd be willing to help us out. He's family, why not?"

"Why not? Roderich hates me! He has hated me from the day we met and he always will. There's no way in hell that he'll help me."

"It's a rather mutual sentiment, unless I'm not terribly mistaken", Ludwig remarks calmly.

"That's not the point, Ludwig, the point is, we can't work together at all. Even if he agreed to help because it's you who's asking, we'd still be unable to work together."

"You're not supposed to work together. Look, let me take care of the negotiations. All we really need is for Roderich to provide us with material in advance, we're not asking him for any additional help with the planning or the construction. You two don't even have to meet."

"Sometimes I wonder if maybe you two are actually brothers and I'm the distant cousin", Gilbert mutters, but he doesn't come up with any further objections, even though his deep frown doesn't go away until they finally arrive at home.


End file.
